Sinful Heir (The Heirs 6)

Yanking my tie loose, I follow after her.

I find her dress at the top of the stairs and drop my tie on it. Shrugging out of the jacket, I let it fall, and then I unbutton the vest, peeling it off. By the time I walk into the room, Hana’s naked on the bed.

I strip out of the rest of my clothes and crawling onto the bed, I bite her thigh before moving up her body.

“Remember two years ago you said you wouldn’t change your mind about having dinner with me?” I ask before I press a kiss to her neck.

Hana nods. “Yes.”

“Look at us now,” I murmur.

She lifts her hand to my jaw, and I lean into the touch. “I’m glad you didn’t give up on me.”

I press my mouth to her wrist, and then I thrust deep inside her.

Our eyes lock as I move inside her. My gaze drink in every inch of her. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Our mouths crash together, and then I devour her until we both soar so high, it takes us a couple of minutes to catch our breath.

Hana snuggles into my side, letting out a contented sigh.

I want to marry her. Not next year but as soon as possible.

“Want to go to Bali for a week?” I ask.

Hana lifts her head and stares down at me. “When?”

“Next week?”

A smile splits over her face, and she nods as she straddles me. “Yes.”

“I’ll make the arrangements.”

Wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck, I pull her down until her mouth is on mine.

One week and then she’ll be Hana Hayes.

Mine.

Forever.

EPILOGUE

HANA

Stepping off the plane, I’m excited to spend New Years' with Tristan in Bali.

Walking to the car, the humidity makes it feel like it’s summer again. Tristan opens the back door to the car and waits for me to slide inside before he follows after me.

As the chauffeur drives us to the resort, Tristan takes my hand, linking our fingers. “I have you all to myself for a whole week,” he murmurs.

I lean my head against his shoulder. “It’s going to be amazing.”

“It is.”

It sounds like there’s a hidden meaning to his words, and it has me asking, “Do you have a surprise planned?”

His mouth curves up in the sexy smirk that always has a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “A big one.”

Grinning at him, I ask, “What? Tell me.”

Slowly he shakes his head. “You’ll have to wait patiently. Only eight hours. Consider it payback for the eight months you made me wait.”

I let out a chuckle as I glance out the window, and then I whisper, “It’s breathtaking here. A paradise.”

When we reach the Bulgari resort, and we’re taken to our mansion by buggy, I admire the volcanic landscape that’s surrounded by lush tropical gardens.

Walking into the mansion, I’m speechless. Dark wood covers the floor, walls, and part of the ceiling, and our bedroom overlooks the Indian Ocean.

“Tristan,” I breathe, totally mesmerized. “It’s spectacular.”

Coming to stand behind me, his fingers wrap around the side of my neck, and then he presses a kiss to my throat. “Only the best for my angel.”

I turn in his arms and kiss him deeply, then I ask, “What are we doing today?”

He points to where two massage beds are set up. “First, we relax.”

We change into robes and then go lie on the beds. Tristan arranged a female masseuse for me and a male one for him, which makes me feel comfortable.

When aromatic scents fill the air, and her hands knead all the knots from the long flight, I melt into the bed.

I drift off after a couple of minutes and wake up when Tristan lifts me to his chest.

“So good,” I mumble, still half asleep.

“Shh… sleep some more,” he murmurs as he lays me on the bed in our room. He lies down beside me, and when his body half covers mine, I press a kiss to his jaw and go back to sleep.

The most annoying sound ever wakes me and shooting up, I glare around the room until I figure out it’s my phone’s alarm going off. I swipe over the screen then frown at it.

I didn’t set the alarm.

A message comes through, and seeing it’s from Tristan, my frown deepens. I open it quickly.

T: Get ready. I’m waiting for you.

I hit reply.

H: Where are you?

T: No questions.

T: Wear the dress hanging by the closet.

My eyes snap toward the closet, and then my lips part.

Oh. My. God.

Climbing off the bed, I walk closer to the white silk dress with red lace flowers scattered over it.

Emotion explodes in my chest, and my hands begin to tremble.

Is this what I think it is?

A woman comes into the room. “Miss. Cutler, I’m Amisha. I’m here to help you with your hair and make-up.”

“Hi,” I whisper, still overwhelmed.

“I’ll get everything ready while you bathe.”